When You Tire
by Chibi McFu
Summary: One-shot: Cloud has been working hard trying to figure out some help for Denzel's Geostigma. Tifa has been watching him and worrying from his doorway, and she wonders if he cherishes her touch as much as she cherishes his. Set just before AC.


**Chibi: This is sort of a sweet little one-shot but it's actually kind of sad. Well, it is however you want to interpret it. The inspiration for this came from **_**Advent Children Complete**_**, when Cloud and Marlene are talking, and she says something like "Cloud, you should learn to clean out your desk once in a while." They're talking about him trying to sort out some sort of help for Denzel, and that is where the idea for this little ficlet popped into my head. I just had this image of Tifa watching him at his desk…aww. **

**Please review if you like it :)**

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When You Tire**_

She knew he couldn't see her in the doorway. He never noticed, night after night, when she paused on the way to her own room to try and get some sleep, and leant on the door frame, watching him hunched over at his desk, poring over book after book after book. It was borderline obsessive, but if she was being honest with herself, she knew she was simply happy that he was home for a while, and not out late on a delivery.

Those were the main focuses in his life, that she was certain of. Delivering packages during the day, sometimes over night, in what seemed some kind of futile attempt to get away from Edge for some hours each day; and then home to stay up all night, researching and trying so desperately to figure out some sort of cure for him. _Him_ being Denzel. Poor Denzel who could now do nothing more than lie in bed all day, as she and Marlene tried to keep him cool and comfortable. She made him soup at lunch time, and sometimes he managed to eat over half of the bowl, with her help. Some days were better than others – a couple of times he'd been able to get up and move about. Marlene stayed by his side relentlessly, only leaving him on school days and bath times, and when she was finally put to bed, tucking her in tightly with her numerous cuddly toys – her favourite being the small stuffed chocobo Cloud had brought her home a few months ago from a delivery to Kalm. And then, after every customer had left, and the bar was clean and tidy, she would turn out all the lights downstairs (unless he was due home late), and slowly make her way up the stairs, hearing the pages rustle softly when she would stop to look in on him.

Yes, she was certain he never knew she was there. He was too absorbed. And that she accepted. She accepted it just like she had long ago accepted his reluctance to let anyone in, not since he had returned into her life bringing his tragedy and sorrow after four long years.

She never stayed long. Just long enough to see the back of his head bent over, his neck stretching, his hands pushing his pedantic fringe out of his eyes. Sometimes he sighed, flipping the cover of a book over again, and pushed the seemingly useless source to the side. Then he would pick up another, search the index, check some pages, scribble some notes down…on it went. Sometimes when she got up to go to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning, he was still there, bent over, searching unremittingly for the seemingly nonexistent answer that would bring some sort of cheer into their now gloom-sheltered lives.

She understood why he was so desperate to help Denzel. He had been the one who'd found him, rescued him from his orphaned life near the church, _her_ church. She understood that Cloud thought it was fate that it would be there that he came across the boy dying of Geostigma. He clearly thought _she_ had meant him to be there, to save Denzel. He was as protective over Denzel as he was over Marlene, maybe sometimes even more so. That she knew so very well. He was the one who sat up every night searching for a cure, an answer, whilst she did the dishes, was he not?

She had always liked to think of herself as the backbone of their small, ramshackle family, but she understood that she and others only thought this because she was the mother figure in their household. Really, it was him that they all depended on. He who brought in the most money, he who had saved them not too long ago, and would most likely save them all again in the near future, the way everything was culminating. She knew as well as he did that the Geostigma was a sign that Sephiroth was still very much a prominent figure in their lives, and most likely would never be a mere memory, as they all so very much wanted him to be. She wasn't naïve. She had suffered too much to think that optimistically.

It was very clear to her that this moment in time, when he was so stressed and hurt, missing those two wonderful people in his life, was not the time to tell him how she felt. The right time had to be when this was over. When Denzel was well again, when life had returned to some sort of normal state. _Whatever normal is_, she found herself thinking. Was normal when even though Denzel was well, he would never be home, but out on deliveries, trying to escape Edge and his memories of those two, and yet whilst he was away simply drowning in those memories, visiting his sword on the mountain and often sleeping on the wooden floor of her church, the smell of her flowers that still grew there delicate and private?

He had taken her to the sword once. They had made a day of it, if you will. First stopping at the church, gathering a small bundle of flowers and simply breathing in her presence, and then riding on his bike (his only other loved one, his beloved Fenrir) up to the mountain, and then dismounting at the sword. It had been knocked over, by wind or cruelty they did not know, and she had watched him pick it up, holding it loosely in his hands, and she knew that the memories were hurting him. And yet all she could do was watch his brow furrow as he ignored his hurt, as always, and pushed the metal back into the ground again, proudly upright, as were their memories of him. He had stared at it for a while, and she knew he was remembering. She remembered him too, but only briefly – a hazy, fifteen year old's view of a handsome, older man who had come to help but was a strong part of what she hated. She conflicted internally over him, but he was undeniably loveable. She had fallen for him as hard as his love had. His love, later her friend, and then even later a beautiful memory. And Cloud's love. Everyone had known that, seen the agony on his face as he held her broken body that spelled his end. She knew a part of him had died with both of them, and now he seemed to have lost his feelings, only concentrating on preventing anyone else in his circle from dying.

His loves changed. They had spanned out over his years. He had loved Zack, as a friend and an older brother, a mentor. But he had left him. He loved Aerith, unsure of his identity but feeling connection and bonds to her. Then she was gone too. Her only guess was that he needed someone to focus on, and on visiting her church had found Denzel, taken it as a sign from her, and decided to concentrate on making him well, loving him as his son, although he was barely old enough to be his father.

If she could have had just one wish, it would be that she could be one of those loves. Even for just a short time. She knew he had been there, at the reactor, had cradled her head in his hands as she lay hurting. Even though she knew her father was dead, was in such agony that his touch was like a faint memory even in that present, she had never been so content. Content to lie with his touch, to relish it. She wondered if he ever cherished her touch as she did his.

No. He cherished his memories of those two.

Why should he cherish her as much as she cherished him?

She longed for him to turn and say _I need you_. That would be contentment.

In the present, away from her pondering and their memories, he put a book down on the pile, stretched his arms above his head, and then leant backwards over the chair, stretching out his back. His head fell back, his hair away from his eyes, which were closed with fatigue. But then they opened slowly, and upside down, he registered her presence in his doorway.

"Oh," he murmured.

They stayed like that for a moment, looking at each upside down and from the doorway, and then he pulled himself upright again.

"How…how long have you been standing there?"

She wanted to reply with _every night_, but somehow she knew now was not the appropriate time. Instead she shrugged, and murmured: "A couple of minutes."

"Oh…right." He turned in the chair, leaning an elbow on the desk and looking at her, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, wincing slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…just my shoulders. They ache a little." He tried to rub them with one hand, and she decided she couldn't hold back and let him be in pain like that. She briefly slipped from her strength and moved towards him.

"Here, let me." He turned in the chair again to face the desk, and she stood behind him, behind the chair, and gently rubbed his shoulders for him. From the first touch she could feel the tension there, the tightened muscles that never seemed to relax, not even when he was asleep. Not that she ever really saw him sleep – but on the rare occasions that she awoke before him, and put her head around his door to see if he was in, he was always curled up under the covers, pressed against the wall, his shoulders hunched and his face a frown. She didn't think she had ever seen his face without frown lines.

He grunted slightly as she kneaded his shoulders and neck gently.

"Sorry, does it hurt?"

"No, no, it's great, thank you…" He closed his eyes, and leant his head back in what seemed to be relaxation, or bliss, and appeared to be revelling in the release of tension. His head brushed her chest, and when he realised what he had done he jumped forward, out of her touch.

"S-sorry!" His face was painted in an embarrassed blush, and she felt her heart warm pleasantly at the rare, youthful look on his face.

"It's okay, don't worry." He moved his shoulders back into her touch again, and secretly she smiled, pleased that he was enjoying her caress. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

She went to move her hands away, but he reached his left one up, and crossed his arm over his chest, gently holding her right hand in place. Neither said anything. The only sound that seemed apparent in the house was Denzel's coughing in his sleep. Cloud sighed.

"It's bloody hard, isn't it?"

"Yes," she murmured. "It is hard." She felt his fingers clutch tightly around her hand, and she closed her eyes, feeling some tears spring to the surface.

"I always thought I was the one everyone needed." He stared at the desk as he said this, and she tried to squeeze his hand, but the positioning made it awkward. So instead, she just let him hold tightly onto her hand, his touch soft and comforting, however small it may be, and however meaningless it was to him.

"We do need you."

"But I need you all so much too." She moved, shifting so that her hands were free and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek softly against his. She felt him press his back, reaching up to touch her arms.

"It's okay to need people, Cloud." He mumbled something incoherent, but she decided not to push him. He sighed, leaning into her. "You should get some sleep, Cloud."

"I know," he murmured. He closed the book that was open on the desk, and she held him tighter. "But…I'm not the only one who's tired, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't hide those shadows under your eyes forever. I see them." She flinched slightly. "You're worried about him, Tifa."

"So are you. You're the one who stays up nearly every night, trying to figure out some way to help him! Don't think that _I_ don't see _you_ doing this every night. I've watched you so many times; you just never knew I was there!"

"What?" He turned round at that point, breaking her hold and looking directly at her. "What do you mean?"

"I…" She faltered. She hadn't actually meant to blurt that out. She stammered, her face growing pink. "I…I just…you…"

"You…you've been there every night? Watching me?"

"Not all night! Just for a moment or two, to check you're okay, that you're not about to collapse from exhaustion or something-"

"-Thank you." She faltered again, his interruption silencing her slightly.

"Huh? Thank me for what?"

He pulled on her arms again, so that she was forced down to rest her cheek against his once more, and he wrapped her arms around him tight, breathing softly.

"I need to know that there' someone to care for me like that."

She said nothing then. Just breathed in his Cloud smell – the smell of her flowers and sweet rain.

"Get some sleep, Cloud."

"Yeah. You too." She moved away then, and as she left, he turned and very softly stroked the side of her face.

"Thank you. For always."

She left him then, as he turned off the desk lamp. As she shut the door she heard him sigh, and she knew he was undressing for bed. She went into her own room, shutting the door behind her and lightly touching the cheek he had stroked, smiling a small, content smile.

When she woke up it was about three in the morning, or at least that's what she could read off of her watch with her sleep riddled eyes. She got up quietly and padded out into the hall, to the bathroom, and sorted herself out. On her way back, she poked her head round the door of his room, and her smile was back. He was stretched out on the bed, the covers half on him and half off, the moonlight seeping through the window and glancing off of his bare chest. His face was soft, his mouth slightly open. His arms and legs were flung around the bed, and she could swear that even in his sleep, the tension was gone, and the calmness was there, the contentment that she wanted. She knew who he was dreaming of.

As she shut the door again, she thought to herself_ I guess some loves are meant to be unrequited_.

She went into her bedroom, closed her door and got back into bed, tucking her cold feet under her and she tried to get some sleep.

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**Chibi: Sorry. I know that's pretty sad and depressing, but if you want, you could see it as Cloud is actually dreaming of Tifa and that is why he is so content, and she just jumped to conclusions. Well, interpret it how you want. I would just like your feedback please!!**

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**x**


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